


Graceless Universe

by JonElam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:49:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1497253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonElam/pseuds/JonElam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Join Sam, Dean, Cas, and Gabriel, as they live, love, and fight the "Fabled Monstrosity", and his cohorts. This features 3 other universes, not including the current Supernatural one. (Long fic, actual plot, worth reading)<br/>(Set in season 6. Sam has not lost his soul, and Ben and Lisa are not there.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Supernatural, nor do I own any of these characters unless stated.

        Rain poured from the sky on a normal night in Austin, Texas. To be fair, Jenna really should have been home by now. Instead of listening to her parents, she decided that going to Brock’s party on the other side of town was a good idea. However, she didn’t plan to stay as long as she did. Now, instead of being at home in the comfort of her own room, she and two of her friends, Selena and Hannah, were walking in the harsh rain.

           “Jenna, we’re going to be late getting home! If I get grounded because your little boy toy wanted you to stay longer, I'm going to kill you,” Selena said harshly, throwing her bag over her shoulder and huffing in annoyance. Jenna continued to walk down the street, feet sloshing in the puddles below her, shoes slowly soaking water into her socks. “Uh, Jenna, did you hear me? Earth to freak girl! ” Selena questioned sarcastically. Jenna ignored the comment and checked her phone. 10:00 pm, her dad would straight up murder her if he knew she was gone.

           “She’s right, Jen,” Hannah whispered quietly, “We need to get home. I don’t like it out here.” The more they walked, the faster the rain fell from the sky. Lightning flashed from above as Jenna spotted a shortcut through a dark and dirty alleyway.

“All right girls, you want to get home faster? There’s our only chance,” she said, pointing at the opening between two buildings. Cutting through them would save the trouble of going around the block completely. Uneasily, both brown headed girls looked at each other and nodded, knowing that it was their only hope to get home quickly enough to avoid lifelong groundings. They all drew in a breath and began down the trash filled tunnel.

           Inside the passage was absolutely rancid. The smell of old and (now) wet food wafted around the ally, smothering each girl’s nose with the worst smell imaginable. Rats scurried around the floor as their feet padded on the broken concrete.

“I think I’m going to puke..” Selena voiced while clutching her stomach dramatically. Jenna rolled her eyes at her increasingly annoying friend.

“Come on, I’m sure the ending is right up ahead,” Jenna's voice was muffled, a product of holding her nose. A silent and hopeful agreement unspokenly passed through all three of them.

As they walked, it seemed as though their footsteps echoed from both in front of and behind them, and at first it was easily passed off as the acoustics of the alleyway. However, soon the sound of the ground being clubbed with feet grew louder and louder, until it almost became a deafening volume. The girls became increasingly worried at the sounds, knowing that even though there may be three of them, they were small and young and could easily be outmatched by someone stronger.

The first one to break out in a full fledged run was Hannah. The other two followed in suit as the noises of the footsteps of the other things began to come closer and closer. In the midst of their adrenaline filled run, not one of them had time to stop before slamming face first into the brick wall at the end. Dazed, confused, and utterly trapped, they could only listen and watch as whatever was following them leisurely worked its way up the corridor.

“Jenna, I’m scared...What’s going on?” Hannah breathed, voice quivering with fright. Jenna could only shake her head at the question, not knowing how to answer.

At first, they could only spot a single pair of eyes glowing in the shadows; a liquid honey color. Then more eyes became visible around the first pair, circling and prowling around the trio, catching whatever light there was in odd ways. A single man rose from the shadows, his eyes the honey gold that was first seen.

“Hello ladies, how are you?” he cooed in a confident English accent. Nobody responded to the silhouette of the man. “Allow me to introduce myself. Or, on second thought, I think I'd rather introduce you to everyone else,” he waved a hand in a sweeping circle while turning to the other shadows. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your dinner for tonight,” Flashes of unnaturally sharp, bright white teeth shone and stood out against the darkness of the alleyway.

After that, only the shrill screams of the dying victims could be heard echoing down the dimly lit streets, calling out for someone to help. Unfortunately for them, no one did.


	2. The Murders

“So, Dean, get this,” Sam said, while studying the paper. “Three dead in freak homicide...large wounds on each victim's neck over the jugular... all persons missing a heart,” he read aloud. Dean paused and looked up from cleaning his guns.

“So… what you’re saying is that we got a vampire and a werewolf working together?” Dean questioned, eyebrows furrowed, “Why the hell would they do that? Aren’t they suppose to hate each other or something?” he frowned as his attention returning to his cleaning.

Sam sighed. “Dean, you need to stop watching Twilight. Werewolves and vampires work together all the time,” he said matter of factly. Dean rolled his eyes, sometimes Sam could just be an incredibly sarcastic know it all.

“Whatever, Sammy. So, where’s this at, anywhere close?” he questioned, laying aside his gun. Sam turned his head back to the paper and skimmed down the article while Dean took a swig of the beer he had snagged from the hotel mini fridge.

“Er...no. It’s in Austin, Texas. That’s a bit far from here," Sam replied, glancing at Dean. Dean’s eyes just about bugged out of his head as he choked on his drink.

“Sam, we’re in Iowa. Do you know how far that is from here?” Dean exclaimed, almost shouting. “Dude, where did you even get that paper? We’re nowhere close to Texas!" Sam shrugged and gestured towards a trash bin in the corner of the room. “Oh, come on dude, that’s just gross,” Dean's face was scrunched up in disgust.

“Either way, Dean, it’s a real case that has for sure supernatural involvement. We can’t pass that up,” Sam pointed out with a smirk. Sometimes watching Dean squirm about having to ride his baby so hard was the funniest thing on the face of the planet. Dean hung his head in defeat. He, unfortunately, knew that Sam was right…again.

* * *

 

To be honest, Dean had been ready to be back at the wheel again. He enjoyed the feel of the sun on his face and the wind blowing wildly through his hair. He had a feeling that Sam wasn’t always too happy about the wind messing up his hair, but that was half the fun. At the moment, all he needed to know was that the Impala was running smoothly, they had a wallet full of money from hustling pool last night, and that Sammy was okay.

“So, Dean, I picked up another newspaper from the gas station we went to a few miles back. It looks like there have been more killings in the same area. Officials are becoming ‘worried’,” Sam commented suddenly, after a record number of hours of silence in the car. He paused, and Dean cleared his throat loudly to get more information out of Sam. “All the killings were exactly the same,” he finally finished. Dean nodded his head wordlessly and pushed on the pedal a little harder. The more deaths that happened while they weren't there, the more guilt and questioning himself there would be later. Dean never liked to admit it, but even after all these years, every death haunted him silently at night. It was almost like a knife that stabbed him in the heart for every death that he allowed to happen. Obviously, some hit him harder than others, but it was the same guilt, nonetheless.

* * *

 

The air had grown colder as they approached the tip of Oklahoma. The day had begun to end and the sun slowly set on the horizon line, sending golden streaks across the sky. Sam had fallen asleep in the passengers side and Dean was about ready to fall asleep at the wheel, so they pulled up to the closest hotel he could find: "Chalk White Hotel." The Impala’s engine was turned off, and with a sputtering sound it cut out, leaving only silence in its place.

“Sammy,” Dean said, nudging Sam’s shoulder, “We’re at a hotel for the night. I can’t drive anymore.” Sam’s seemingly lifeless body began to move and stretch (an impressive feat for his long frame in a small car) as he let out a long-winded yawn. He smacked his lips, slowly looking around the parking lot, surveying his surroundings.

“Where are we, Dean?” Sam asked, extremely confused by the wilderness all around, the hotel being the only building in sight. He pushed himself up in his chair to get a better view.

“We’re somewhere in Oklahoma. No idea where, exactly,” Dean responded. He slowly but surely opened his door and swung out his badly cramping legs. He winced at the pain shooting up the abused muscles. “Maybe we should have stopped sooner," he thought to himself. Either way, tomorrow they’d be at their destination.

Sam went to the hotel desk and paid for the night while Dean gathered the things they’d need from the Impala.  Upon seeing Sam returning with the key, he slammed down the trunk of the car and hefted two extremely large duffle bags over his shoulder.

”You ready, Sammy?” he questioned sarcastically with a quirk of his eyebrow. They both knew by the looks of the outside of this place that the inside of the hotel would be close to, if not completely, trashed.

It turned out that the inside of the room wasn’t as bad as they had expected. It still smelled like something had died and was decomposing in there, but all of the furniture was intact, the AC was working, and the blinds covered most of the windows. All in all, they had seen worse, far worse, and at least they were used to the smell.

“Alright, Sammy, you start replacing the bedsheets and I’ll watch some T.V.,” Dean said cutely while directing his award winning smile at Sam. Sam thought it was a joke until Dean dropped his bag and plopped himself on the bed, remote in his hand. Instead of arguing, Sam decided that it would probably be easier to do it all himself. At least Dean wouldn’t be in the way this time. Sam grabbed the sheets and yanked them from his bed, piling them in a ball at the end of the bed on the floor. He then unzipped his duffle, pulled out their own personal bed supplies, and began to fit them onto the mattress.

30 minutes later, both beds had been dressed with new sheets, the old ones in a trash bag. Dean was no help the entire time; he was too busy watching some crappy medical drama show called “Doctor Sexy M.D.”

“Dean, I thought you were tired. I'm ready for bed and the volume is up way too loud. You can take a shower tonight, and I’ll take one tomorrow morning before we leave,” Sam dictated to his brother, and Dean was pretty sure that was Sam's bitchface number 364. Dean shot a glare in return at Sam before shutting off the T.V. and grabbing his shower items. He got up and slowly traipsed over to the bathroom, and then, once inside, shut the door. Sam flopped onto his bed, old mattress springs squeaking in protest, exhausted from the ride. The gentle sound of the water coming from the bathroom quickly lulled him to sleep.

* * *

 

Needless to say, Sam did NOT want to wake up hearing “Heat of the Moment” ever again. It almost gave him a full on heart attack, especially because today was a Tuesday. Dean, however, rolled his ass out of bed without a care in the world.

“What’s wrong, Sammy, don’t you like Asia?” Dean smirked, knowing full well what this song meant for the Winchester boys, his brother in particular. Instead of an actual response, Sam flung his pillow at Dean’s face. Dean easily blocked it with his arm and chuckled to himself.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Sam glared, throwing off the bed sheets and not really expecting an answer.

While Sam was getting ready for his shower, Dean began packing up their stuff. As the sound of the shower being turned on came from inside the bathroom, Dean’s phone began to ring loudly. It caught him off guard, and he momentarily stared at his personal phone, not knowing whether to answer it or not. Nobody but close personal friends (and Sammy, of course) should have that number. Making up his mind up quickly, he swiped at the answer button.

“Hello? Who is this?” Dean questioned the caller.

“Dean? Dean!? Are you there?” the unknown person exclaimed, sounding breathless and utterly terrified.

“Yeah, I’m here, who is this?” Dean asked again, concerned and immediately on edge.

“Dean, I don’t know how much longer I can hold them off. There are monsters everywhere, and they’re after me. Dean, you need to get to Austin, Texas, and save- AHHH!” Dean winced at the shriek coming from the receiver. More screams and disgusting wet gnawing sounds blared from the phone as Dean slowly pulled his ear away. Suddenly, a new voice crackled over the line.

“Heyo, Dean,” the decidedly masculine, accented voice spoke, “Seems your little hunter friend isn’t doing so well. Maybe you should pay him a visit.” Dean narrowed his eyes; he could practically see the smirk on the man’s face. “Come get me if you can, dollface,” the unknown man said, and with that, the phone line went dead.

“Who was that?” Sam asked, toweling off his hair. Dean looked over to Sam, who was now fully dressed, and he could only blankly stare at him. Sam could see the hollow look in Dean’s eyes and began to panic. “Dean, who was it? Is Bobby okay? What’s going on?” Sam fired question after question at his brother. Dean could only mumble out incoherent sentences, and Sam advanced toward him and snatched the phone from his hand. He looked at the screen, and only an unknown number sat on the display, flashing that the call had been ended. “Who is this, Dean?” Sam hissed.

“I-I don’t know, Sam. He called screaming for my help, but then I could hear flesh being ripped open, and I seriously doubt that the dude is alive anymore. Someone else picked up his phone after that. I think it was the monster who killed him... He told me to ‘come get’ him,” Dean explained with a horrified and faintly disgusted look on his face, “The hunter didn’t even have time to tell me what was after him,” he finished, looking at the floor, and heaving a shaky sigh.

“We’ll get whatever it is, Dean. Do you know who the caller was?” Sam consoled his brother, trying to stay calm. Dean speechlessly shook his head, pressing his palms over his eyes and desperately trying to block out the memory of the sound of screams and a body being ripped apart.

* * *

 

After the unnerving call, Sam and Dean loaded up their stuff as quickly as possible and hit the road. A few stops later, Sam checked the web for any more murders like the ones before, and found that 6 newly mauled bodies were discovered in the same area.

“So, Dean, I know we’re almost there, but we might hit a problem once we arrive,” Sam commented, after taking a bite from the bagel they had bought from the gas station. “It seems they’ve quarantined the whole area where the mass murders have occurred, and they aren't letting anyone in or out without an express written consent from Homeland Security,” Sam continued with a frown, “I don’t think we can swing that from Bobby this time.” His tone was disappointed and mildly irritated. Dean huffed in annoyance at the news. “How are we going to get in?” Sam inquired. Dean shrugged tensely, not knowing any real solution to the problem.

“I don’t know, Sammy, I mean, there’s really n- OH COME ON!” Dean spat in anger. The blockade of police cars and officers showed up earlier than either of the boys had expected. Looking ahead, Dean noticed a hefty man who barely fit in his uniform waving them down. Slamming his foot down on the brake, he pulled up next to the policeman. “Hey, officer,” Dean said, flashing a brilliant smile, “My brother and I are here to see some relatives. What seems to be the problem?” He composed his face to look as innocent as possible.

“Road's closed on account of the murders ‘appenin 'round here,” the overweight gentleman drawled the words with a thick southern accent, “You’ll have to come see ‘em another time,” he finished with a lazy smile. A twinge of irritation pushed it’s way into Dean’s face as he backed up, made a u-turn and peeled down the road, knowing that if he stayed any longer, he might have told the larger man to fuck off and go find a donut factory.

“Dean, calm down. We’ll figure a way in somehow,” Sam tried to soothe his brother’s rising temper. “Look over there," Sam said, pointing at a wide dirt path coming up on the shoulder of the road, “Let’s go down there and we’ll think of a way to get past them,” he suggested. Dean immediately turned off onto the road, throwing dust and mud up behind them.

After a small amount of time driving down the winding path, Dean stopped the car, cut the engine, and breathed for a second, rubbing his temples. “Okay, Sam, I have an idea. We can call Cas, and he’ll mojo us into the town." He sounded frustrated to have to rely on the angel, and Sam carefully mulled the idea around in his head for a while before nodding in agreement. They needed Cas, he was really their only option at this point. "Castiel, Oh Castiel, where art thou feathery ass?” Dean questioned the sky with his usual amount of tact. A second later, the familiar sound of wings flapped into the back seat, followed by that dragged-over-gravel voice.

“Hello Dean.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! New chapters coming soon. Please leave comments/suggestions!


	3. Meet my Death warrant

“Son of a- Cas, you scared the hell out of me,” Dean groaned, plastering himself against the wheel to try and compose himself. Not that Dean wasn't used to Castiel appearing out of thin air, but Cas had come the very first time Dean called, and that was extremely unusual. It was both sweet (and Dean would deny he ever even thought that) and unnerving. When had Castiel started seeing him with such priority?

“Dean, I always come when you call. What do you need? I am in the middle of a battle and cannot be here for long,” Cas responded, even more gruffly than usual. Dean instinctively relaxed, heart rate slowing from hearing the soothing sound and latent power of Castiel’s rough voice.

“Sorry, Cas, we just needed to get into this place. Seems a mass murdering spree has been going on around here, and we think it’s some vampires and werewolves working together,” he explained as quickly as possible. The angel cocked his head in his usual fashion, considering Dean’s words.

“Why can’t you just drive in? The Impala appears to be in complete working condition, and I don’t see any other complications,” Cas asked, leaning back into the seat, eyes focused on Dean intently. Dean also leaned back into a sitting position, his head turned so he could return Castiel's gaze. Sam, on the other hand, was awkwardly sitting in his seat feeling a bit like a third wheel on a date.

“The road is blocked off. Nobody in or out unless they’ve got specific permission. We need to get in there quickly and start up a goddamn bloodbath of our own,” Dean ground out the words, a glint of primal rage and revenge flashing in his eyes. Castiel seemed to take no notice of the eldest Winchester’s tone or feelings; he wasn’t really what you would call an empathetic person anyways.

"Very well, Dean. However, once you are in, it will be a while before I can come and retrieve you. This, combined with the current battle going on in heaven's realms, will take a significant amount of power from my grace, and I will require time to 'recharge',” Cas warned the boys. Sam and Dean nodded simultaneously, and with that, the angel placed both of his hands on the seats in front of him, willing the car and everything in it into Austin, Texas.

* * *

 

Sam and Dean had both been transported by Cas’ grace before, but no amount of experience ever prepared them for the feeling of utter nausea afterwards. Dean quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and threw open the car door, clutching his stomach. Both the cheeseburger and the shake he had eaten from the diner they had been to earlier that morning quickly rose to the surface. Sam had better luck than Dean in the aspect that he had eaten less, and healthier, therefore not vomiting up as much.

“Fuck, Cas… isn’t there a way that you can do this WITHOUT us puking or not being able to shit for a week?” Dean snarked while wiping his mouth. He turned his head to look at Cas for an answer, but only found the usually stoic angel breathlessly heaving in air he shouldn't technically need. Dean scurried to his feet surprisingly fast and rushed over to Cas’ side. Sam poked his head over the Impala just in time to see the concern written all over Dean’s face, and without a second thought he also ran to Castiel’s aid. “Talk to me, buddy, what’s wrong?” Dean asked, concern lining his voice. Dean grabbed the angels chin so that he could look him over and found nothing visibly wrong. Cas stiffened at Dean’s unexpected touch.

“I am fine, Dean,” Cas replied, moving away from Dean. He stood up straight and puffed his chest slightly, shifting into his normal tense stance. “I have never transported anything that large before. It has drained my grace more than I expected,” he sounded slightly embarrassed. Dean switched from concerned mode to apologetic mode in a heartbeat.

“Sorry Cas. We didn’t know it would do that to you...will you be able to get back up to heaven okay?” Dean was almost pleading for Castiel to stay, concerned and wanting to watch over him. "Oh dear god, another chick flick moment,” Dean thought a second later, hoping he didn't make himself sick again with the sappy and totally unmanly feelings.

“I said I am fine, Dean. I will come and get you when the time is right,” Cas huffed, indignant. In the next instant, Castiel was gone, and in his place a single ebony feather floated gently downwards. Trying to save  himself some embarrassment, Dean quickly steeled his expression and made sure not to look at Sam. He was probably already laughing at Dean.

Cas had transported them into the lower west side of the town. Bricked and vacant buildings stood on either side of the street, and if the boys were being honest, any one of them could be the monster HQ. Each side of the road had only a few old cars parked along it, with the occasional street light hanging above the pavement. The sun’s deep red rays refracted off the windows, and gave a reddened hue to everything it touched.

“Okay...so now we do some undercover work, Sammy. Then, we can all go out for  some booze and strippers once we gank the asshole,” Dean beamed, obviously trying to get Sam’s mind off the little moment between he and Cas. A small smile played on the edges of Sam’s mouth.

“That’s fine, Dean, but I don’t think that Castiel knows how to give a strip tease or lap dance,” Sam smirked and crammed his large frame back into the Impala, shutting his door. Dean’s face twisted and turned a deep shade of red.

“Gross, Sam. You totally know I don't swing that way,” he hissed while slipping himself into the driver's seat and slamming the car door behind him with a silent apology to his baby. Dean shoved the key into the ignition, and fired up the engine. He smiled inwardly at the familiar slow putt and purr of the machine as he pulled away from the curb.

* * *

 

It had been way too late in the evening for the Winchester boys to actually do any interviews with the victims' families. Instead, they found the nearest hotel and crashed for the night, resting for the inevitably long day of body examinations and awkward encounters with grieving people that awaited them. When they awoke the next morning, they flipped on the T.V to see little to no known activity. No murders had occurred overnight,  there had been no strange hospital visits, not a single scream echoed down the streets. There was nothing but peace and quiet.

“I don’t like the feeling of this, Dean. As soon as we got here, everything went quiet. Doesn’t that raise any red flags for you?” Sam's expression was serious when he looked at his brother, who had flipped the channel to the morning cartoons. It took a second before Dean responded, apparently completely engrossed with the child friendly storyline of the episode playing.

“Yeah,” he finally responded after a long pause, tearing his eyes away from the screen and placing them on Sam.“It’s friggin' weird. Normally they’d be gutting the whole city by now, but instead, there’s not a single blip on the radar,” Dean's grave expression matched his brother's. Both of them sat in silence, the only noise the T.V. dimly playing in the background. There were pits in each of their stomachs; that feeling that everything just didn’t seem quite right.

(scene shift)

“Hello? Who’s there?” the elderly lady questioned, peering through a chain locked door. Her face was red as if she'd been crying all night, and her eyes, makeup, and hair were a mess.

“Hello, ma'am, I’m Agent Sampson, and this is my partner, Agent Scully,” Sam politely introduced them both while motioning to Dean, who smoothly offered his badge. “We’re with Homeland Security, and we’d like to talk to you about your husband's death, if that’s okay with you,” Sam was using his most sympathetic voice, trying to avoid getting the door slammed in his face. The woman squinted blearily at the badge before quickly shutting the door and unlocking it from the other side. Slowly, the door creaked open, allowing the Winchesters to get a better look at the inside of the building.

The inside of the house looked to be composed of mostly 19th century Louis XV styled furnishings. Both gold and wood accented the decor, giving off a seasoned atmosphere. The plastered wall of the foyer was lined with what looked like pictures of both the woman's husband and her children. The widow was dressed in all black; her style seemed like it was only an expected formality.

“We can go into the living room and talk about it there,” she choked out, voice breaking. She led them into a room with even more pictures laid out on the coffee table, and told them to sit. Both men sat on the couch awkwardly, trying not to accidentally knock a photo out of place.

“Caroline, may I call you Caroline?" with a nod from the woman, Sam continued, "what can you tell us about your husband?” Sam was starting slow, trying to ease into the questioning process. She slumped back and her eyes misted over as if she had been asked this question a lot recently, which, to be fair, she probably had.

“Wallace was a good man... He may not have been the most friendly of sorts, but that’s what made him so loveable,” she began speaking in a trembling voice, a single tear dropping from her eye. Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He never liked seeing people cry, especially not the victim of a monster, because they would essentially never know the real reason their family member had to take an early trip to the afterlife. “He was a calm and gentle soul most of the time, and wouldn’t ever anger anyone... I just don’t see why it had to be him,” Caroline forced out, tears now forming streams on her cheeks. Dean sighed inwardly, this was going to be a really fucking long day.

* * *

 

The interview lasted almost an hour, and in that hour they learned almost diddly squat. Well, besides Wallace’s whole backstory, which, truth be told, wasn’t very interesting. He hadn’t angered anyone before his death, nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and it just seemed to be an all around random attack.

“So, Sammy, what do we do now? We don’t have any leads,” Dean asked, exasperated, while trotting down the porch steps. Sam wordlessly followed Dean down the stairs, deep in thought. As soon as they reached the car, Dean swiveled around to look at Sam, who still hadn’t answered his question. “Well?” Dean scowled, annoyed at Sam for ignoring him the first time he had spoken.

“I don’t know, Dean. We could look at the bodies at the morgue, but they’re not going to show us anything we don’t already know. We know that werewolves and vampires are working together, and that they’re just randomized ‘attack and snack’ occurrences. There’s not really anything we can do but wait until the next attack,” Sam snapped at Dean with an accompanying bitchface. Dean took his cue from Sam's expression, and turned back to his baby, patting her affectionately while silently wishing that Sam didn’t have to be such a hardass all the time. He was as irritated as his brother; it didn't sit well with either of them that they were forced to wait for another person to possibly die. Both Winchesters somberly saddled up in the car, and drove off into the humid summer heat.

* * *

 

“Keep quiet, Dean. We’re suppose to be doing some undercover work,” Sam chastised his brother over the loud crinkle of the bag of chips Dean was eating. Dean glared at Sam before rolling up the bag and placing it on the floorboard of the Impala. They had gotten a tip of some minor disturbance in the suburbs of deep downtown Austin. Since they had no leads, they decided to do some surveillance of the home to occupy their time.

“Whatever, Sammy. You’re just pissed that I won’t let you have any,” Dean responded, wiping the crumbs from his suit. Dean looked out the window and scowled, glancing at the completely normal looking house. His eyes scanned the perimeter; as a hunter he had learned even the most mundane of places could have monsters lurking. As he looked at the north end of the building, he caught a shadowy movement that slid out of sight behind the far wall. Dean stiffened, nudging Sam and jerking his chin in that direction. They both stared at the place where the shadow had crept past them, listening closely for any signs of distress. The lights inside the house flipped on and a few shadowed frames passed in front of the window. “It’s time, Sammy, let’s move,” Dean quickly snapped into hunter mode, throwing the car door open and exiting the vehicle. With his gun by his side, he and Sam crept across the street until a loud, blood curdling screech came from inside the home. Both boys began sprinting across the lawn, up the porch, and then to the door, which was locked of all things. “Why does it always have to be locked?!” Dean growled as he threw his weight against the fortified wood over and over until the door smashed open, sending wooden chunks flying in all directions. The Winchesters quickly entered the darkened house, guns drawn and loaded with silver, ready to shoot anything that moved. Dean double checked his pockets, reassuring himself that the dead man’s blood was still there. They checked the living room together, and with a hand signal from Dean, they silently split up.

The elder Winchester took to the stairs and Sam continued down the hallway, looking for the intruders. Dean swore under his breath as he creaked up the winding steps, attempting to create no noise on the rather old hardwood floor and finding this a near impossible task. He eventually reached the top, exhaling slowly to steady himself. Cautiously, he walked down the creepy, pitch black hallway, sharply aiming his gun at any unusual sound. He flinched as without warning a chilling shriek of the same intensity as the first came piercing through the darkness. Dean’s head snapped up, locating the source of the noise, and found it to be behind a wooden door that sat at the end of the shadowy corridor. He moved swiftly and stealthily to the door before bursting in, gun at the ready, the opposite hand on the vial in his pocket. However, looking in, he found it to be empty, devoid of any clue that someone had ever been there. There wasn’t even any furniture.

“What th-” Dean started to exclaim what would have been an impressive stream of profanity, but before he could end his sentence, pain exploded through the back of his skull as he was smashed in the head with a blunt instrument. He swayed for a second, vision blurry and fuzzing black around the edges, until finally his knees buckled and his unconscious body slumped to the floor.

Dean awoke with a start, his head thumping in pain, his vision blurry. A thin trail of blood was slowly drying behind his ear and down his neck, and he was tied to a sturdy, heavy metal chair with thick barbed wire that dug uncomfortably into his skin. He instinctively tried to struggle against the bonds holding him in place, but it had no effect other than some shallow cuts for his trouble. Looking around, Dean saw that he was still in the same seemingly empty room as before, and yet, for some reason, his instincts were screaming he wasn’t alone. He needed to get out before whatever had tied him up found Sammy, too.

“Sammy!” Dean shouted, his voice hoarse, desperately trying to get his brother to come to his rescue, to give him a clue where he was, hell, even just to alert him something sneaky was here with them.

“Dean, stop yelling. I’m right behind you, fucking idjit.” Sam hissed behind him, trying to both calm and shut up his increasingly annoying, and incredibly loud brother. Dean began to panic, realizing that Sam was also tied up, and probably already had deep cuts from struggling.

“Sammy, are you okay?” Dean asked frantically, as this was his first concern. He broke rule number one.. always keep Sammy safe. Silently cursing himself, he waited for his brother’s response, which would likely be more than a little sarcastic.

“Yeah, Dean, I’m fine...just a little tied up,” Sam winced from attempting to pull away from the ties again. Dean relaxed ever so slightly from hearing that Sammy was okay, for now at least. Maybe not safe, but okay.

Someone cleared their throat pointedly from behind them and within the shadows to get the boys’ attention. The stranger had been listening to the conversation the whole time, relishing the fact that he had caught the infamous Winchesters with only a flick of his wrist. “Who’s there?” Sam ground out, scowling in the direction of the sound threateningly. A single, brilliantly white smile gleamed from inside the shroud of darkness.

“‘Ello Sam,” he said tersely, directing his words to the younger Winchester, “Dean,” he spat out in the same fashion. “I bet you’re both wondering why I’ve gathered you here today,” he smiled wider, stepping out from the shadows. The question was obviously rhetorical, and neither Winchester responded with anything other than a glower. The man must have been close to seven feet tall, even taller than Sam. His overly large shoulders were dressed in a singlet tux which seemed to stretch a little too tightly over his python sized arms, and his dark hair and features complemented his eyes, which glowed, shining a honey colored luminescence. There was no longer any doubt this man was something supernatural, maybe even more powerful than your run of the mill vampire or werewolf. “As you’ve probably guessed,” the man continued calmly, “I’m going to kill you. Slowly, painfully, and I’m going to love every minute of it. Once you’re a second from death, I may even spare you and turn you into one of my kind. Does that sound okay, boys?”  Sarcasm dripped from his words, matching his aloof facial expression. Sam and Dean struggled against their bondings once more, but it was as useless as they expected.

“It’ll be alright, Sammy,” Dean reassured his brother confidently, ”besides, I don’t think Edward Cullen here has the grapes to change us. He knows that every minute he wastes with this boring ass monologue, there’s a hunter that will come to help us, possibly even find a cure for your disgusting disease.” Dean was being typically cocky, attempting to get a rise out of the monster. The quip from Dean either went unnoticed or ignored by the monster as he walked a full circle around the trussed up Winchesters, getting himself a full view of his prey.

“Oh, don’t be so sure that they’d help you, Dean. They have the same thought about us that you do. Kill or be killed. Although I’d love to see your pretty little head roll on the floor next to me, it would be even more amusing if I turned you, and one of your ‘friends’ did it for me. You see, Dean, I lured you here. The paper that Sam found, the fake website, the scream you heard, even the old lady was my doing. I tricked you, Dean and Sam Winchester, and now? I’m going to have my well deserved fun,” he smirked sadistically at the boys’ expressions of complete shock. With his long speech apparently over, the monster grabbed Dean’s face roughly and fixed those unnatural eyes straight onto Dean’s. Dean wasn’t having any of it, and with a defiant grin he spit directly in the face of the monster. With nothing more than a smirk, the monster clawed Dean aggressively across the face, the force of it snapping his neck so quickly to the side that Sam could hear it crack. Blood welled quickly to the surface from the deep wounds, dripping down Dean’s chin and jaw. Sam shouted Dean’s name and struggled harder, wire digging into his skin painfully. Dean could almost feel his consciousness slipping from his grasp, head spinning and woozy from the combination of what was likely two consecutive concussions and blood loss.The last thing Dean saw before his vision dimmed completely was a stunning flash of bright white light and the distant sound of someone shouting.

“Gabe is back bitches!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment on how you think it is! Thanks for reading.


	4. Hello confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my WONDERFUL editor, Dean. Also.. Credit: Rachael for editing and ideas.

The first thing that Dean was painfully aware of was someone standing over him and shouting, “RISE AND SHINE, SLEEPING BEAUTY!” at an absolutely obnoxious volume. It took some effort, but his eyes finally fluttered open enough to see the annoying archangel Gabriel’s stupid grin hanging directly above his head, and beyond that, the familiar popcorn ceilings of Bobby's house. Slowly, Dean put his hands to his eyes, pushing his palms roughly into them and rubbing, trying to clear his head. It took him almost a full minute to realize that his face was no longer bleeding and that the gaping claw wounds themselves had disappeared completely.

“Uuhgh…what happened?” he moaned at Gabriel, who was still watching him with his typical perpetual smirk plastered across his face. Although Dean’s wounds had been healed, his head was still pounding like a jackhammer, sharp pain shooting behind his eyes and a noticeable dull ache throbbing throughout his body. Gabe opened his mouth to answer, but before the angel got the chance to make any smart remarks, Dean shot up from his reclined position. He winced as his body practically screamed in protest, but it wasn't enough to deter his concern, “Where’s Sammy? Is he okay?” Gabe chuckled and gently pushed Dean back down on the couch.

“He’s fine, Dean-o. I think he went to get you your normal greasy slop. Personally, I voted for doughnuts, but it’s not like anyone listens to me,” Gabriel sighed dramatically, a very put upon expression on his cheeky face. “Now, as for what happened to you guys, you must have met a nasty little guy to have ended up in that state,” the archangel gave Dean an infuriatingly superior smile, patting him on the shoulder in a there-there kind of manner. “You’d expect a big, bad, oh so experienced hunter like yourself ought to be able to take down a pitiful, insignificant bug like that, now don’t you think?” he was full on gloating now, taunting Dean with his failure.

“Fuck you, Gabe,” Dean muttered reflexively, and then blinked in realization, “Wait a minute...Gabriel? How the hell are you alive?” Dean stared, astonished, at the increasingly impatient archangel who rolled his whiskey colored eyes at the hunter.

"Did you really expect me to stay dead for long? I’m too awesome to die. Speaking of which, I might die again pretty soon here if I don't get some sugar. Where the hell are all the sweets in this joint? I need a piece of cake right about now, and a Snickers bar or two wouldn’t hurt either,” Gabriel longingly turned his gaze over to the fridge, which, knowing Bobby, was probably empty of anything but beer, and topped off his sad statement with a melodramatic sigh. Dean chose to ignore the antics of the angel and slowly pushed himself up from his laid out state. His muscles ached in protest at the movement, but he eventually managed to sit up straight, the blanket that had been on top him now discarded on the couch.

“No, but really, Gabe, how are you alive? Didn’t you kinda...ya know...get ganked by Lucifer?” Dean asked seriously while pressing a hand to his head in an attempt to ease the stabbing sensation. Dean would have bet good money that this was purposeful on Gabriel's part; if Cas had healed him, he wouldn’t feel any pain at all. The archangel tore his eyes off the disappointingly sweet-free fridge and refocused on Dean, who had actually asked him a non-sarcastic and/or cocky question for once in his life. The angel heaved a loud sigh and flung himself down next to Dean with a rueful expression, the old couch creaking in protest at the extra weight. As much as he loved tormenting him, Gabe knew that it was probably in his best interests to answer the elder Winchester truthfully.

“To be honest Dean-o, I have no clue. Guess God thought I was way too cool to party with the dead anymore, so he brought me back,” he shrugged, typically egotistical. Dean chuckled at the suggestion, shaking his head disbelievingly. Although God or whoever had brought Cas back a few times, it didn’t mean that Gabe anywhere near special enough for that kind of treatment. Gabriel glanced over at him with an obviously faked look of hurt plastered onto his face. “Wow, Dean, am I not as special as you and your boyfriend or something? I’m not good enough to be brought back, too?” Gabriel pressed his hand to his chest as though wounded, his voice an octave higher than normal. Dean glared at the archangel for his comment about Cas. He stubbornly maintained he had never liked men, and he never will, not even the one in-a-male-vessel-but-technically-genderless angel he could actually stand. His mind fluttered briefly over the image of too blue eyes boring into him, and he shook his head fiercely to get the image out, making his neck complain at him all over again.

Dean gritted his teeth and began debating whether killing the archangel would be too much of a hassle or not, but before he could make up his mind, the roar of the Impala rattled the creaky windows of the house. “Oh, look, Moose is home! Maybe he brought me some cake!” Gabriel practically squealed in delight, and Dean asked himself not for the first time how this creature, who was literally older than dirt, could be such a child. With a snap of his fingers, Gabe transported himself outside of the house and directly next to Sam, who screamed like a little girl. Dean sighed and wondered why Gabriel hadn’t just mojoed himself in some food instead of waiting for Sam to get home with something. He filed the question away to ask Gabriel about later; for the time being he had something better to take care of.

“Cas? You too busy to come by and visit?” Dean called, a bit gruffly, to the heavens. Only a second passed before the light bulb above his head flickered and the sound of feathers rustling announced the angel's arrival.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas murmured his usual line in that rough voice. Dean couldn't help but realize that Castiel had once again showed up at the first beckon. Dean's gaze slid from the ceiling to in front of him to see the angel standing less than two feet from the couch. His eyes flicked up towards Cas’ and Dean could see the concern written all over his face.

“Thanks for coming, Cas,” Dean snarked, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Real awesome that Gabriel had to rescue us. What happened to the whole 'keep the Winchesters safe' plan? Did you even know I was out of commission, or were you too busy to notice I almost DIED?” he gave the angel an extremely annoyed look.

“I did come to visit, Dean, however, you were unconscious. It took a great deal of will to not try and wake you,” Castiel's eyes darted to the floor in shame, obviously feeling pretty guilty. Dean lightened up immediately, cheeks turning a bright shade of red. He replayed his words and guiltily realized how much of a dick he sounded like. Cas had actually come down from heaven, in the middle of a war, to see if Dean was okay, without anyone calling him. Cas cared if Dean was hurt or not. Nobody else but Sam had ever cared that much, and it was very disconcerting.

“Oh…sorry, Cas, I didn’t thin-” Dean started to explain but was quickly silenced by a look from Castiel.

“There is no need for an apology, Dean. You were not awake when I came, therefore you could not have known that I was here,” Castiel reassured. Dean nodded a silent apology to the angel. “You’re still in pain,” Cas' brows furrowed into a frown, blue eyes studying him intently. Dean didn't respond, Castiel had already confirmed the injuries had not been fully healed. Dean mentally cursed Gabriel for doing a half-assed job of healing him, because now Cas was going to use his already drained grace to heal the pain left over from the archangel’s incompetence.

"Really, Cas, I'm not dying, you don't have to do anything. I'm sure it'll fade on its own," Dean attempted to stop the angel from acting. He was pretty sure Castiel needed to save all the grace he could, and it wasn't like Dean hadn't lived with worse. As expected, however, Cas ignored his protests and approached, stretching out his hand and placing it on Dean’s forehead. A soothing ribbon of warmth flowed and spread throughout his body, and the former aching pain slowly faded, replaced with the pleasant tingling sensation of health.

“Thanks, Cas, I owe you one,” Dean graciously thanked the angel, green eyes locked firmly onto blue.

* * *

 

As it turned out, Sam had brought a whole shit ton of glazed and sugary goodies in a bag for Gabriel, who promptly stole it, sat on the floor, and pulled out his favorite treats. In a separate bag, Sam had brought Dean one of the biggest cheeseburgers he had ever seen, accompanied by a large portion of fries. It was loaded with pickles, onions, lettuce, tomatoes, and ketchup, a god among peasants in Dean's burger eating history. Dean didn’t realize how hungry he really was until he took a look at the feast sitting in front of him. Sam had grabbed a boxed salad for himself, which Dean found to be a huge waste of ingredients that could have been used on another fantastic burger.

After an enthusiastic and totally chick flicky moment where Sam gushed over him and made sure Dean was whole and well, the brothers sat down and ate in silence, listening to Gabriel hum as he sucked on a lollipop and dug through the rest of his bag. Castiel sat in a chair and watched the others curiously as they enjoyed their food; he would never understand why it was so appealing to them, nor would he ever want to require such sustenance. It seemed very inconvenient. Dean was taking large bites from the burger with his usual table manners, and then chugging the pop that Sam had brought for him. Sam took smaller, more proportionate bites and washed it down with water he got from the sink in the kitchen. Everyone was content to stay quiet until, between bites, Dean opened his mouth to ask the question nobody seemed to want to talk about.

“So, what are we planning to do about big, bad and ugly?” Dean ran his tongue over his teeth. The question made Gabriel turn around from the corner of the room where he was hoarding the sweets, his face stuffed comically, and Sam fumbled and almost dropped his fork. Dean heard Castiel exhale sharply, and saw him tense out of the corner of his eye. The younger Winchester lowered the bite he was about to take and carefully planned his next words.

“Uh...no offence, Dean, but we almost got our asses flayed by that thing. If Gabriel hadn't come along when he did, we'd be dead, or worse. Don’t you want to rest before hitting it head on again?” Sam asked his brother as gently as possible. Dean stopped stuffing his face long enough for him to shoot daggers at Sam for questioning his resilience.

“Sam, if we don’t kill him now, who will? And how many more innocent people will die?” Dean pointed out. The younger Winchester sighed; he had to admit that Dean was right. The more time they spent curled up in a ball hiding from the monsters, the more people would get hurt. Plus, Dean was in a mood that Sam knew all too well. It was his stubborn ass mood that made him almost impossible to budge on any subject.

“Alright...so what do we do?” Sam inquired.

* * *

 

Dean, as was typical, already had the whole thing planned out. They were going to find the nest and raid it, this time with an angel, an archangel, and their complete silver and dead man's blood arsenal with them. Dean thought the plan was foolproof, and that they had no chance of failure. The others thought that Dean had been hit on his head a bit harder than they originally thought. They knew that this plan of Dean's was bordering on a suicide mission, and Castiel, in particular, was very displeased with this particular idea. He wasn't eager about putting Dean back into even worse danger than before, when he had barely made it out alive the last time he faced this monster. Dean ignored any protests, hard headed and stubborn as usual, and when he mentioned that he could either go with or without them, Castiel was forced to bend. The angel did, however, voice his displeasure with the plan and Dean's decision.

"I could handcuff him to you permanently if you’d like," Gabriel smirked, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner at Castiel. To Sam’s amusement and Dean’s horror, Cas actually considered the thought, mentally weighing in the pros and cons.

"I do not think Dean would ever forgive me if I agreed to that tactic," Castiel finally decided, "I will just have to do my best to ensure he does nothing foolish." Gabriel snorted, Sam rolled his eyes, and Dean’s face turned an extraordinary shade of red.

"Good luck with that," Sam sighed, shooting a glare at Gabriel, "I've been trying to do that for years and he's died over a hundred times." This just seemed to make Castiel even more restless, and served to piss Dean off, so nothing further was said about the idiocy of the plan.

They finished off their food and began packing their duffle bag full of the deadliest weapons they could find, each of them loaded with ammo good for vampires and werewolves. When they were finally ready to leave, each angel grabbed a Winchester, and with a gust of air and the flap of wings, they were once again standing in downtown Austin.

* * *

 

Oddly enough, neither Winchester felt the normal nausea that would accompany a teleportation via angel. Dean chalked it up to being completely full of adrenaline and ready to take on this evil bastard, Sam, on the other hand, sent a silent prayer of thanks to God for this anomaly, since it would have been hard to fight properly while trying not to vomit. Cas and Gabe had brought them to a street in front of a obviously abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. The single street lamp that hung above them flickered in and out as a result of the immense angelic power convergence around it.

“You ready, boys?” Dean asked, trusting the angels had brought them to the right place, the thrill of the hunt already pumping in his veins. Sam gulped quietly, took a breath, and nodded in response. Dean raised a hand and gestured for Gabriel to go with Sam, and motioned for Cas to stay on his ass as they did this. Both angels inclined their heads in understanding.

Dean slowly prowled around one side of the building, Sam doing the same on the other. The dew wet grass and resulting squelching mud made it a lot harder for Dean to be sneaky, while Cas just strode easily along, mojo making it simple for him to not create a single sound. Slowly but surely, Dean maneuvered his way toward the back of the building, gun loaded with silver and firmly in his grasp. As he and Castiel reached the back of the warehouse, Dean spotted Sam, the archangel trailing closely behind his brother. He signaled towards the single door in the center of the wall and both teams slid alongside the flat surface carefully, making sure to stay out of any light. As they reached the door, Dean pulled out his lock picking equipment and went to work on the knob.

With practiced ease, Dean had the door unlocked pretty quickly, slowly pushing it aside and listening for anything that could have been guarding it. Hearing nothing, the group carefully entered the darkened passage way of the building, the Winchesters with their guns drawn and the angels with smiting hands at the ready. The darkness grew deeper with each step, but Sam and Dean could still make out the chipped and broken tiled floor and concrete walls that surrounded them. The hallway, although visibly clean and uncorroded, reeked of death and wet dog; it was almost enough to make them sick. The Winchesters inched down the passage, angels in tow, and to their relief their eyes slowly but surely adapted to the lack of light. They soon came to the ending of the hall, and saw that it branched off in two directions. As they approached it, Dean quickly poked his head around the corners. He spotted a couple of guards, standing adjacent from each other, neither with any visible wolf-related features, and he mouthed the words, “Two vamps,” to Sam, who silently pulled vials of dead mans blood from his pocket.

Explosively, both Sam and Dean darted from their hiding place around the corner at the monsters. Their boots made surprisingly little noise as they rocketed after the creatures, Dean suspected this was the result of some helpful angelic mojo. Neither vampire had time to react before Sam used both hands to stab them each with a large dose of dead man’s blood, immobilizing them where they stood. Dean didn't even pause before slicing through the first vamp’s neck, a sickening slick noise proceeded the knife cutting through the jugular and into and through the spinal cord. Dean turned to the second vampire, raising his machete in preparation, and the monster forced out a strangled but sharp cry, waking everything within the building and alerting them to the Winchester’s position.

"WE COULD USE THE ANGELS IN HERE!” Dean yelled back at the beings that were still standing behind the corner keeping watch, the time for stealth over. Cas and Gabriel appeared at either of the boys' sides just in time for the doors of two rooms on either side of the hallway to slam open, vampires and full fledged, shifted werewolves pouring in from each side. Dean and Sam both stood their ground, back to back, silver blades in hand, and hacked at anything that came too close to them. Gabriel and Castiel entered the crowd of creatures with angelic speed, smiting anything they could get their hands on, completely oblivious to any teeth or claws that attempted to hurt them. The floor slowly became a pile of dead bodies and blood pooled at the feet of the Winchesters, and the smell of singed flesh wafted from the smited lifeless bodies the angels left in their wake. All up and down the hall bits and chunks of flesh, sinew, and blood clung to the walls, illuminated in the flashes of light given off of the angels' graces as they fought.

After what seemed like hours, the fight finally died down, leaving only a few monsters standing. Sam and Dean heaved in air, breathless and exhausted from fighting for so long. Scratches and bruises littered the boys' skin, Sam had a shoulder ripped open and Dean was limping slightly on one knee. The angels stood coolly on either side of the Winchesters, not a single injury or mark on their vessels, though Castiel's trench coat was in ribbons and Gabriel's jeans were shredded. Cas began to scan the remnants of the crowd that had been massacred, looking for their leader, supernaturally sharp eyes gazing into the darkness. He stiffened, and his head snapped towards a seemingly insignificant mass inside of the shadows, grace reading it’s inhuman signal. Castiel growled at the shadow aggressively, instantly on edge. He recognized this monster, he had sensed its taint on Dean’s injuries. Not even a day ago, this creature had hurt and almost killed his human. It had hurt HIS Dean, and the monstrosity was going to pay for it. A slow clapping sound, combined with Cas’ growl, drew everyone’s attention to the dark silhouette of the man.

“Good work, gentlemen,” the shadowy figure snarked, “You’ve effectively ended THIS hive, haven’t you? That’s okay, because the fun has just begun.” He slowly stepped out of the shadows, just as massive and dressed in the same clothes as before, and immediately Cas’ grace flared. Sam and Dean flung up hands to block out the light as Castiel radiated heat and light from his vessel and sent the few remaining monsters flying. “Tsk, Tsk, Castiel. You should really watch your temper, angel.” the creature cooed, sarcasm dripping from every word. Without thinking, Dean threw a hand onto the angel’s shoulder, grasping him tight and trying to stop him before he blew a gasket, or worse, literally blew up his vessel. The instant Dean’s hand came into contact with him, Castiel calmed, however that didn’t make him feel any better about being near the abomination.

“What the hell do you want, you ugly bastard?” Dean spat, silver machete still held high in a defensive position with his free hand. The monster glared at Dean for holding Cas back, and if Dean didn’t know better he would have thought the asshole WANTED to have an angel to attack him.

“Well, besides your death, dollface, I-” was all the boss monster got out before Castiel lunged at him full force, practically radiating angelic fury. “Apparently, nobody is allowed to threaten Dean when Castiel is within earshot,” Sam thought to himself while mentally rolling his eyes. The boss easily dodged the attack and snapped his fingers. The sound echoed off the walls, more loudly than it should have for such a tiny motion, and immediately more vampires and werewolves poured from secret compartments and rooms littering the walls, startling the Winchesters and their angelic companions, though not enough to get the drop on them. The hacking, slashing, and smiting started up again with renewed vigor, Castiel still scowling in confusion and annoyance, puzzling over the swiftness with which his attack had been avoided.

Having successfully distracted the angels by the new enemies and endangering the safety of the Winchesters in the process, the boss creature began to leisurely walk away, smirk prominent on his face. Dean glanced up after slicing off another head, spotted him, snarled, "Oh, FUCK NO you don't!" and before anyone else could say otherwise, he chased after the deadly hybrid, slicing viciously at anything in his way. He reached the tall, incredibly imposing monster, and summoning up all his strength, he took his machete and plunged it into the boss’ back with a wet, meaty noise. The creature winced in pain, but didn’t fall, or even so much as gasp or curse. Instead, he reached backwards, grabbed the handle of the sharpened weapon, and eased it out from deep within his body. Dean frowned, doubt creeping in, and quickly took three huge steps back as the wound rapidly began to patch itself up, bone reforming where it had been nicked, muscle and sinew reknitting itself, skin beginning to work itself back together at the edges. Dean watched in horror, mouth hanging wide open, confusion paralyzing him.

“Big mistake, Dean,” the creature bared his teeth as he faced the Winchester, golden eyes glinting dangerously in a feral sort of manner, and Dean would be lying if he said this close up to the monster he didn’t feel all of 2 inches tall. The boss raised his talons high above his head and swiped down with fatal speed towards Dean, who closed his eyes in expectancy of the blow. Fortunately for the hunter, the deadly swipe never came into contact.

One moment, Dean was about to die, and the next, he didn’t feel the coolness of the warehouse anymore and was no longer knee deep in bodies. He opened his eyes to see a very confused Bobby sitting in his chair halfway through a sip of a nice cold beer.

“What the hell, you idjits! Don’t you knock before you teleport anymore?” he frowned, irritated, towards Sam and Dean, chastising them for their abrupt arrival. Both Winchesters looked at each other for a long moment before Sam opened his mouth and said, far too calmly for the situation,

“Dean, I think it’s time we do more research.” 


End file.
